


The Lightning Reborn

by MightySSStrawberry



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Cyborgs, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Love, Loving Marriage, Metal Gear References, Metal Gear Solid 4: Guns of the Patriots, OTP Feels, Parenthood, Raiden (Metal Gear) - Freeform, Raiden Deserves Happiness, Romance, Rosemary (Metal Gear) - Freeform, Science Fiction, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25652857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MightySSStrawberry/pseuds/MightySSStrawberry
Summary: I have been a Metal Gear Solid fan since I finished all the games in 2012 (yes, I played Metal Gear and Metal Gear 2: Solid Snake also).  For me, MGS is The Lord of the Rings of video games.  Like The Return of the King, MGS 4: Guns of the Patriots makes me cry every time 😭💖 I wrote this short piece 4 years ago.  It takes place after MGS 4: Guns of the Patriots, just days after the beautiful family reunion cutscene of Jack, Rose, and their little boy John. After everything Raiden has been through, I wanted to give him some much-needed fluff and a lovely private moment with his Rose 🌹 Perhaps I'll whip up a cute bonding moment for Raiden and his little boy...
Relationships: Jack/Rose, Raiden/Rosemary (Metal Gear)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	The Lightning Reborn

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended for ages 16+ for suggestive themes

The cottage stood stalwart on a quiet acre of verdant land, a haven in a sea of folly. Over it, sturdy oak trees spread their burly branches in a shielding posture. An old, red-brick path led the way to the New England front door. The gate to a new life. A new beginning.  


Raiden stepped out of the passenger’s side door of the car, gingerly, perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet as if he were wearing his cyborg posable heels. He feared a lack of stealthy footing might alert a surviving vestige of the Patriots. He stared at the cottage, his breath like battery acid in the middle of his reconstructed, metal chest. The sinking sun darkened the sky in orange blood.  


So remote, the sun, the cottage. His grip on the top of the car door hardened.  


An autumn breeze rustled the leaves dangling high above him, swirling into the earthy dust around his feet.  


The absence of metropolitan pandemonium and the screams of humanoid hardware successfully infiltrated his thoughts. A kind scalpel, it sliced into his dread, gradually exposing a timid trust. He longed to believe in safety again, but the last five years had mauled his capacity for hope.  


He felt Rosemary’s hand slide into his. “Welcome home, Jack.”  


His slender brows knitted together. He clenched her hand, never taking his eyes from the cottage, its cozy chimney and inviting windows.  


“Rose?” he uttered, afraid to speak too openly. “Is this real?”  


She turned his chin toward her and looked earnestly into his voltage-blue eyes, willing him to believe. “Yes. I promise.”  


After a moment of fragile deliberation, Raiden nodded, but the disturbed crease between his arresting, sorrowful eyes did not fade.  


“Mommy!” John called from the cottage door, waving. He still clutched his wooden katana in one hand. Would he seek a soldier’s life one day? Raiden’s fatherly instinct, though just recently awakened, flared to a perilous, protective heat as a sickening image of his little son bearing a monstrous assault rifle tore through him.  


Like a clone of himself as a child. Staggering back, he shook his head to rid himself of the gruesome idea, panting as if waking from a vivid nightmare.  


“Jack?” Rose put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.” Her plea was calm but desperately loving, reminding him of her supplications during the Big Shell incident.  


“I don’t want him to be like me,” Raiden rasped, leaning against the car and holding his face in one hand. “Don’t let him be like me, Rose.” He looked up at her, his eyes bearing the weight of an old agony over which he could no longer weep. Being ninety percent machine dictated the capability of the shedding of tears as nonessential.  


Long ago he’d learned that crying served no purpose anyway, was rewarded only with whippings and an empty belly after hours of combat drills.  


The phantom taste of gunpowder filled his mouth.  


But Rose had seen him cry. Once. A rare occasion that had caught them both off guard. She’d held him all through that night. The only night they had slept in the same room together until morning. In her arms he found peace. She didn’t need to see tears to know that he was crying now.  


“He will be strong and brave like you,” Rose said, laying her hand against his cheek. “He admires you.”  


He sighed cynically. “For my killing. My…” He winced. “My ripping.”  


Rose shook her head. “For your heroism.”  


“Mommy! I’m hungry!” John called again.  


“Coming, sweetie,” Rose answered. Returning her gaze to Raiden, she said, smiling, “Let’s go inside.”  


He drew a shaky breath, then nodded.  


Stepping over the threshold was like stepping out of a wall of water and into clean, abundant air. Raiden let out a heavy sigh, feeling like he’d been holding it for the last five chaotic, hopeless years.  


The cottage was perfect for a bran new family. A tall, thriving plant stood in a corner of the humble entryway, which branched off toward the kitchen on the left and the living room to the right. A hallway led to the bedrooms. A scarlet, stained-glass lantern hung over the door on an iron chain.  


John pushed past his parents, hurrying into the kitchen, swinging his toy katana and making enthusiastic swishing noises. Raiden swallowed hard, watching his child pretend at warfare.  


“John, sweetie, take off your shoes,” Rose called, removing her own. Even her reprimanding was like a compassionate melody. Raiden knew every beautiful cell of her body lacked even the smallest scrap of harshness.  


“I’ll get him settled and then bring you some tea,” she told Raiden, running a hand down his back and offering another hopeful smile before tending to their boy.  


After shucking his own shoes, Raiden set his bare, human-colored, mechanical feet on the soft, bushy carpet.  


A love seat and matching couch stood angled at one another in one corner in full view of the flat screen TV. A Gamecube was plugged in, sitting next to a modest stack of age-appropriate games for John. However, one title at the bottom of the stack caught his eye.  


A tactical espionage action game.  


Raiden scoffed. He had enough of that in his life. The creator of the game had a memorable Japanese name, though.  


Slumping into the love seat, he let his gaze wander around the room until it fell upon a blu-ray movie lying on the oak wood coffee table before him. His heart clenched, like a sudden glitch in his body’s quotidian functions software that kept what organic viscera he’d retained operating.  


King Kong. The original.  


Then the smile came. It could not be stopped or suppressed or refused. He and Rosemary had worn out her DVD copy in just the first few months they’d been dating. He fondly remembered how they’d cuddle up together on her couch, Rose in his lap, his arms around her.  


“I thought we might watch it tonight,” Rosemary said, setting two cups of steaming tea on the table.  


The delicious aroma of cinnamon and plum stole deep into his wiring, soothing him.  


Raiden clutched her hand, pulling her closer. Putting his hands on her hips, he gazed up at her and said, “It’s so hard to believe this is real. You feel real.” His hands slid slowly down her thighs. “I want it to be real so badly.”  


The words were half a sob as he leaned his head against her.  


Rosemary’s arms cradled him, her warmth of life refueling his, helping him forget that his body was almost entirely artificial.  


“It’ll take time, Jack,” she murmured sweetly. She combed her fingers into his white-blond hair. “It’s okay.” Her whispers were like a lullaby over him. “It’s okay.”  


Finally he looked up at her again, his eyes windows to the core of his torment he’d carried for so long. “I am never leaving you again, Rose. I really mean that.”  


Kneeling, she took his hands in hers, running the pads of her thumbs across his synthetic knuckles. Her eyes flickered to his mouth. Her breath seemed a little rushed. With one gentle fingertip she traced his artificial lower lip, and then the laser-carved, scar-like crease that divided his false jaw from his real face.  


Spurning the asinine separation, Raiden kissed her trembling lips. Rosemary made a small, surprised sound that shifted into a breath of relief and excitement. He enfolded her in his arms, taking care not to embrace her too firmly lest he crush her.  


As the intensity of their embrace flourished, Raiden was wholeheartedly grateful that all of his sensory faculties had been revitalized and left intact. Rose climbed into the chair, straddling his lap, their kisses deepening, but never hurrying. The confluence of their lips was savored and memorized, as if any kiss might be the last.  


Raiden never wanted to let go.  


Minutes later, sharing each other’s hustling breath, Raiden and Rosemary sat in genuine, unfiltered delight in one another’s arms, foreheads pressed together, smiling so hard it ached.  


“Drink your tea,” Rose whispered, her lips brushing against his as she spoke. “I’ll go check on John.”  


Raiden nodded, in a daze, his hand sliding down her arm until she stepped away and he had to let go. He took up his tea, blew away some of the steam, and sipped. Tea was one of the very few culinary things Rose could manage. He smiled, warmed not by her tea but by the lingering heat of her body. Possessing an artificial body did have many perks like hyper-sensitivity.  


It was beginning to feel like home.  


Once John had been put to bed, Rosemary led Raiden into their own bedroom down the hall. Two large windows were on the western wall, ajar, allowing the kind breeze of the night to flow in. In the light of the modern-style chandelier, the room was spacious, smelled of lavender, and done in summer-cloud white and mild-river blue.  


The queen-sized bed filled Raiden’s belly with a strange loneliness, a loneliness he longed to permanently eradicate.  


“We can get a second bed,” Rosemary suggested timidly. “There’s a guest bedroom. If it will help you sleep better—”  


“No,” Raiden stated resolutely. He looked into her eyes, affectionately taking her chin between finger and thumb. “I swore never to leave you again. I won’t. Not even to sleep. The nightmares will still come, but I’d rather bear them with you beside me.”  


Rosemary threw her arms around his neck, hugging him so tightly he worried his metal frame might bruise her. That thought stirred another more serious and rather embarrassing one. They’d be sharing the same bed.  


Therefore they’d most likely be…  


“Look,” she said, releasing him. “I had a second closet installed for your work wardrobe.”  


His lungs fell like dead weight into the cavity where his intestines once were. “Rose. I will not bring any of that into our home. Especially not around John.”  


Nervously she pushed some of her dark hair away from her eyes. “Well, what if you need it?”  


“Rose.” He stepped toward her and entwined his fingers with hers. “I’m keeping work at work.”  


A skittish sigh left her. “The Patriots have only been dismantled for a few weeks. Dr. Emmerich said unstable fallout will be inevitable. There’s no harm in being extra cautious for a while.”  


Raiden hung his head, staring at their interwoven hands. “He’s right.”  


He peered over her shoulder into the closet. A four-tiered wrack of polished redwood stood reverently on the back shelf. A wrack for various sized, tech-reinforced katanas. High frequency blades. His specialty weapon.  


“A couple blades will suffice, but always under lock and key,” he stated, fully resolved.  


“Of course,” Rose replied, nodding, and then closed the closet doors. “I’ll have a security system installed as soon as possible. Tomorrow I’ll make some calls.”  


Raiden’s gaze traveled out the window, settling on the full moon. Its white radiance chilled his white blood.  


Remote. Perhaps remoteness was best for now, until he became comfortable in reality again. He looked back at Rose, all words lost to him as he stared at his renewed purpose.  


“I’m so tired,” he mumbled, blinking wearily.  


“Let’s go to bed, then,” she suggested sensually.  


He failed to suppress a flinch. “I… Um… It’s…” Every word choked him. “How much do you know about what happened to me? When I became…like this?” He tapped his sternum, which was no longer bone but metal and silicon.  


“The colonel told me some of the details, but…” Her hand slid over his heart.  


“Do you want to know it all?” he asked.  


She stole a moment to consider it. “I don’t need to.”  


He strode to the window, his steps slow and exhausted. “Only a few of my organs and bones are original, but…that’s not one of them.”  


Rose joined him at the window, her brow bewildered. “Jack?”  


“My brain still produces all the hormones, but I can’t…” His fists clenched at his sides as a tide of inadequacy swept over him. “I can’t love you like that anymore.” His voice wavered in humiliation. “They considered it superfluous so just removed it completely.”  


“Do you really think that makes a difference to me?” Rose’s own voice neared the edge of sorrow.  


“You need to know, so I’m telling you,” he replied flatly.  


“Jack, look at me.”  


He did, and felt the consolation of her naked heart like a constant cloud of warmth, giving fire to the lightning within him.  


Her hands disappeared behind her. She unzipped her skirt.  


“Rose, I…” he stammered.  


The skirt fell to the floor, and then she unbuttoned her shirt.  


Raiden tried to swallow the lump in his throat.  


“I just want to lay in your arms,” she whispered, running her hands around his waist. “I just want to feel you. My skin and your skin.” She pressed her body gently to his and laid her head on his shoulder.  


“It’s not even my skin anymore,” he half-heartedly protested. Her nearness, the touch of her hands, the heat of her breath, her smell of marigold and clean, windblown linen, all danced as one into his snow-white blood, pumping new hope into his heart.  


“You’re still Jack,” she breathed. “The Jack I love.”  


A heavy, heart-rending sigh rushed out of him. “Oh, Rose. Why?”  


She smiled up at him, as kind and soft as newborn butterflies. “Because underneath the bloodstains and cybernetics and scars left by war, you are sweet and loving and strong.” He felt her rushing heartbeat in his own chest. “Your heart is human, and my heart is yours.”  


Raiden lifted one hand to caress her cheek, but hesitated, contemplating the artificiality of his fingers. They were his now, but at least he had a body to inhabit in order to be with her.  


Gratefulness surged through his white veins like live volts out of a storm. The time had come to renounce vacillation.  


Raiden kissed her, hard and happily. Swallowed inside their enraptured embrace, skin against skin, he was fully human again in the comforting, unconditional petals of his Rose.  


“I don’t deserve any of this,” he breathed. “Not this home. Not John.” He cupped her face, relishing her softness. “Not you.”  


“It’s not about deserving,” she said. “It’s about finding a reason to live, and then living for it.” The moonlight glittered on tears unshed in her dark chocolate eyes. “The best is yet to come.”

***

Raiden woke with a start in the middle of the night. He did not recall what the nightmare contained, but he stared wide-eyed out the window, breathing heavily.  


Rose stirred beside him, snuggling closer. “Are you all right?” she murmured, half-asleep.  


“I’m…” He almost said he was fine, but he didn’t want anymore lies in their lives. Instead, he said, “I’m cold.”  


She made a gentle, smiling sound. “Come closer. I’ll keep you warm.”  


Raiden turned onto his side, facing her, touching his nose fondly to hers. She cuddled up to his chest, and he slid his arm over her.  


“Did you ever give up on me?” he asked quietly into the dark. “Even for a second?”  


“I was worried and I was scared,” she said, “but I always knew my Jack was still there.”  


He pressed a solid, lingering kiss on her forehead. Such happiness engulfed him he ached to cry. Instead he held Rose close, and soon drifted into a merciful, dreamless slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you catch my homage to Kojima-san and to what should have been the new Silent Hill game (P.T.)? 😉


End file.
